


Broken Home

by Devils_Eyelashes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Arthur deserved this, He would be happy, Hope, Past, Sad, Symbolism, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devils_Eyelashes/pseuds/Devils_Eyelashes
Summary: *Huge spoilers for the End of Red Dead Redemption 2*Years have passed since Dutch van der Linde's gang fell apart. It's time for the former leader to visit one of his lost sons.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Broken Home

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by this artwork by the wonderful @vhenan_virabelasan  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CAFXDqlh3mL/?igshid=1sb4sngnduz7f

The cold air got thinner the closer he came to the mountain's top. Every breath seemed to cut his lungs. He had left his horse in the lowlands, hitched to a tree.

He knew, this was a path he had to walk alone.

After The Count died, he didnt even bother to find that new horse a name. The Count was one of the last pieces of his shattered past, one of the last friends he lost.

Heavy wafts of mist obstructed his view, made it difficult to follow the rocky and uneven trail through the massive trees, but Dutch kept fighting. Higher and higher the track led him. The fog's dumpness froze under his feet, and every step brought a rustle to his ear. Ice cold wind tangled in his black, fur trimmed coat, pierced marrow and bone. He gasped slightly and wrapped the coat tighter against his oppressed, yet sturdy body, as the first soft snowflakes melted on his cheeks.

Breathing hard and unsteady, he finally reached the crest, his ebony hair and beard covered in snow. He detected a small colourful spot in the close distance, right at the edge of the cliffs. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he slowly approached the abyss.  
The blurred colourful spots fell into shapes of flowers; red, yellow and orange, glistening like flamelets around the weathered wooden celtic cross.  
The letters may have faded, but not the memory.  
Dutch let himself down on one knee, his hands folded on his leg. "My son..." 

His voice trembled, and tears filled his eyes.  
"I've failed you. Failed you so many times. Left you when I should have stayed. Refused you when I should have listened. I..." The tightness in his throat made his voice crack.  
"I miss you, every day of my god damn life. You and Hosea. I should have taken your advices...but I was so blind. I wish things had ended differently. None of you deserved this...  
You were always loyal, and I was..."  
Dutch stopped, pressing his lips into a thin line. His gaze fixed Arthur's name and he clenched his fists.  
"I was such a fool...Forgive me."  
A heavy sob left the broken man's lips. He no longer held back his tears. There was no need to. He was all alone, with the son he lost.  
Old scars ripped open with every tear he shed. Memories of a blond stripling, playing with his dog.  
Of a young adult, lying in his father's arms after his heart's been broken.  
Of a grown man, his face smashed by a traitor, barely able to breathe.  
"I wish...I could see you...one last time, son!", he stuttered, his voice shaking.  
In that moment, he heard a crackling sound. With wet face and reddened eyes, he turned around. The bushes above him on the hill jiggled, the sound of breaking branches grew louder.  
Out of the shrubs stepped a majestic stag with it's head held high, antlers as radiant as a crown. It paced towards the edge and looked down to Dutch, who still kneeled next to Arthur's grave.  
Dutch held it's gaze, his brown eyes met the deep blue, and for the first time in many years, a comfortable warmth spreaded through his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first, lets call it 'fictional text' in English language. Please feel free to support and criticise.


End file.
